An Early Morning Guinea Pig
by Assassin For Hire
Summary: From the authors of "Ai! Aniron Elf Ears!" Hilarious battle of wits as the X-Men find they've got their handfuls with the Juggernaut. Co-written by three guest writers, all masters of sarcasm. Review us!


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**AN EARLY MORNING GUINEA PIG**

as written in ROLEPLAY by the following:

Krista (kabanas) – Cyclops  
Jessica (FataMorgana) – Phoenix  
Stephen – Iceman  
Kati – Shadowcat

and featuring Mike (Elendil)'s  
self-made character, Dark Cloak  
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**DISCLAIMER:** That's right, the X-Men belong to Marvel Comics. We just like to fiddle with them once in a while. And who are we exactly? The Crew, of course. A group of RP-obsessed individuals who write funny things about funny mutants because we think we know better than Marvel does. We're out of sight, out of hand, and out of mind. And we know. Some liberties have obviously been taken with the X-Men and the Juggernaut. What are we, shmucks?

  
  
  
**DOWNTOWN MANHATTAN,  
An ungodly hour of the morning.**

**Cyclops** Oh hecks naw. With downtown Manhattan turned upside down by Juggernaut, Cyclops wondered what flying piece of steel would be hurtled at his shoulder next—or WORSE…ruin his hair. Shoving to a stand from his knees, the stud in the blue duds locks his fists in quiet rage and eyes the situation in front of him. He symbolically stood a few feet in front of the team, leading his X-Men into battle.

**Phoenix** Psionics, in general, are a great thing to be gifted with. And they come in handy a lot of the time. And usually, there isn't much your opponent can do against them. Unless that opponent is Juggernaut. And apparently he had no regard for people's daily routine, because doesn't it happen to be 5 AM. Hovering a few feet off the ground, Jean thinks this brings a new meaning to "saving the world before breakfast."

**Iceman** Leather jacket? Check. Hawaiian shirt? Check. Nice pair of shades? Double check. Bobby was this close to quoting an alien-zapping Will Smith, but it was too early in the day, and Jean didn't look to swell. The sun was barely peeking through the skyscrapers, and Juggernauts hulking form standing between them didn't make it any easier. Bobby cracked a smile. "Can we guess who's hopped up on caffeine?"

**Shadowcat** Five o'clock in the morning. What base, evil lord of the underworld had engineered this? Not only was it too damn early for decent people to be awake, but she and her mates had been at it for half an hour already, dodging missiles like some twisted game of pinball machines. Marko was going to get his ass kicked, Kitty style.

**Cyclops** "Alpha Formation, team. Close in!" Bobby's comment went right over the stone-faced leader's head. Speaking of which, flying car? No problem. Quick hands equate a quick draw as Cyclops turned the dial on his visor and bolted his wide stance to the cement. Karate stance in place, he kills the frenzied noise of the screaming crowd as a foot-wide optic beam rips through the air and explodes the car.

**Phoenix** And if that car had gotten any closer to his head, she would have had to teke it out of the way. And for that matter, she does need to toss up a gleaming magenta psi-shield against the glass that sprays into the air at said car blowing up. "Let's try to keep the collateral damage to a minimum, children. Some of us aren't government sanctioned." Jean manages to comment, hurling a spray of bricks at the Juggernaut.

**Iceman** Alpha Formation. Riiiight, which one was that again? It was 5 in the morning; maybe Mr. Summers would let him get away with forgetting. The thought was killed the moment he thought it. The explosion wasn't as much of a surprise to him as it was the crowd, and a quick overhanging sheet of ice shields them from debris. Quick one, this Iceman was.

**Shadowcat** mirrored Drake's thoughts unknowingly. Formation? Now? Before the sun had tugged free of the horizon? Wishful thinking, team leader. The vicious demise of the car drew her attention, Kitty's frame phasing out before anything could hit, and thus, damage her cute lil' self. Uh-huh. She surged forward through several cars, wreaking havoc on the electronics. Car horns, galore.

**Cyclops** No whining in this team. Not with Cyclops at the front. Leading the X-Men to a full assault now, Scott went into "Gimme Your Best Shot" mode. Juggernaut was making merry hell on Central Park, which made the field leader wonder what incited Marko to anger this time. In the skies, SWAT helicopters thundered over their heads. Scott became a human shotgun, pumping out beams left and right to deflect Juggernaut's aim.

**Phoenix** _It looks from here like he's reinforced the latches on his helmet since last time, but it can still be removed,_ Jean projects to the team, hovering just behind Marko, and out of his reach. One of her husband's shots fired past Juggernaut in her direction, which works to their advantage as she tosses up a barrier which deflects the shot off Jean and right towards the enemy's unsuspecting back, causing him to stumble forwards.

**Iceman** Well, this was beginning to become an eventful morning indeed. Wasn't worth the dream he was woken out of, though. Drake took the initiative-and the clever move made by Jean, to get Jug-head off his feet. Palms flat to the pavement, eyes give off an eerie glow, and within a second or two later, the entire street was glazed in ice. "So many lame quotes to choose from, so little time."

**Shadowcat** Now, Kitty wasn't a telepath, but she knew the fabulous Ms. Grey was. _Right. I'm gonna sneak around, and position myself to take on the helmet destroying …_ Slipping from car to car, mindful of the ice that now made her work a little more difficult, the phasin' genius crept along the street, just a small target too obscure for Marko to notice. Then she was gonna get revenge for the early hour.

**Cyclops** Jean safe? Good, Cyclops can breathe again. For a moment there, he was ready to get dramatic… "Quick and steady, Shadowcat," he nodded, escorting said teammate to a sprint towards the fallen, embittered villain, fingers trigger-happy. Scott shook away thoughts of having Jean dump a mac-sized truck on the writhing creature, though he considered it.

**Iceman** "One king-sized Popsicle coming right up…" An ice-slide carries him over his on work; the street now sporting a nice sized crack from Juggernaut's lost footing. He stalls overhead the –Unstoppable- one, conjuring a ray of ice over his head and firing. The ice creeps up his legs, stopping at his shoulders. Hopefully it would be enough. Bobby's little devil told him it was. "Now let's see you throw another car at me."

**Shadowcat** took her cue from Jean, springing rather felinely into action from the car, skidding across the iced roadway, and only barely managing to catch herself before she would have skated right into the opposite building. Working quickly, she reached up, forcing herself to bend gravity just a little, walking up an 'air staircase'. Fingers worked nimbly, undoing the clasps. And she was free, rolling away with the damned heavy helmet.

**Cyclops**' militant figure loomed over the exposed villain, tall and sunkissed. "I'd consider keeping to the ground a moment longer, Cain. At least until we get some answers." The dark ruby in Cyclops' visor glimmered testingly as his entire figure wrenched tightly in stoicism. "You have 3700 psi worth of pressure pointed at your head. That's enough to pulverize the base off the Statue of Liberty. Now let's hear your excuse."

**Phoenix** hovers, posed over Marko's head, her hand already to her forehead in preparation of a nice psi-blast to knock the Unstoppable One (who had proven himself stoppable this morning) out for at least a few hours. Enough time to get him to a facility able to handle him. She listens, unimpressed, as he blurts a story about being paid to cause a scene downtown. She looks to Scott, awaiting the nod to put him out.

**Iceman** Standing on his frozen pedestal, Bobby was right at Jean's level. He shields his mouth from Scott with a hand, whispering to his wife, "Between the danger room sequences and you, when does he have time to figure out these equations?" The devil again. But low, his conscious was making a recovery, and he had time to think about his question. "Nevermind."

**Phoenix** answers, _He doesn't sleep, you know._

**Shadowcat** bowled over several feet away, hampered by the weight of the helmet, and the slippery surface she'd been fleeing on. Dayam. Hadn't someone once said that big helmets were made for those lacking elsewhere? Bad, bad train of thought, lassie. Spinning to a stop, Kitty picked herself up, and watched…keeping an eye out for possible danger in the area.

**Cyclops** caught that. _Rake me._

**Cyclops** Six choppers and three-inch thick steel cables. Good luck with the National Guard trying to make an arrest. After a testy minute of vague replies, Cyclops moved in on Marko and kneeled to his level. Oh, here it comes… The Frown. "'The McGregor Corporation'? The biotech firm…" he repeated. "You haven't been paid enough to advance terrorism." Eye on Jean, Scott stepped back and signaled for her to follow through with psionic sleepy juice.

**Phoenix** receives the green light, and nods, closing her eyes and forming a whopper of a psi-blast, her temple alight with the magenta sheen that signaled the use of her powers. Post that, Cain let off an anguished cry, struggling to keep conscious, but Jean's command over her powers won out, and he slumped. Nodding, satisfied, she lowers herself to the ground and does the token, once per issue hip tilt, hand on her husband's shoulder.

**Iceman** And just like that, they beat the bad guy. Hooray. Definitely not worth the lost sleep. The crowd didn't seem too overly amused, either. Someone screamed about their car been littered all over the place. A few others cried about sprained ankles. Must've been the ice. Damn. Bobby was on the ground in seconds, going into crowd control. He could've sworn they were the heroes. People… Blind to the obvious.

**Shadowcat **"Someone owes me coffee and breakfast." She edged over to the limp villain's frame, and pondering kicking the icehole, but it would only hurt her foot. Keeping a firm grip on the helmet, she swept past, not once slipping on the melting ice – because she was just that brilliant – and aided Bobby in his quest of 'better PR'.

**Cyclops** And theeeeeere's…The Pose. Arms folded and still as a corpse, Cyclops stayed behind to oversee the hauling of the slumbering Juggernaut into the air. As predicted, it was a bad idea to grant the villain parole from his cryogenic jail every few years. If it was up to Scott… well, no, he's supposed to be the forgiving Alpha Male. Eyeing the rest of his team with approval, the leader radioed in for Dark Cloak and the Blackbird.

**Phoenix** takes a moment to select Marko's helmet from Kitty and levitates it along with them. He wouldn't be needing it, and apparently it couldn't be trusted to be safe in the authority's keeping. "Charles will want to have a look at it," she says by way of explanation to Cyclops, gesturing for the rest of the team to follow. The news teams were already on the site, and they didn't need to be around for that frenzy.

**Dark Cloak** And Dark Cloak came through. All right, so he did show off a bit, arriving having carried and propelled the Blackbird via magnetic means. The aircraft set down gently, the hatch opening with the pressure-equilibrating crack, complete with the ebony-cloaked mutant seated comfortably in one of the lounge-like chairs, his feet propped up on the arm of the chair in front of him.

**Dark Cloak** eyed the team carefully and appraisingly. "I seem to have missed a party."

**Iceman** "Right, a bruised ego… I don't think our insurance covers that, bud." That's right, Bobby, back away slowly from the stick wielding crowd. And the numbers were growing. Luckily, the Calvary had arrived—in the form of…Gary? Yep, it was him. Nobody else would use their powers to fly something that flew on its own. Whatever the case, he was right on time. "Not to overstep, Cyke, but I think a 'Let's move, people!' is in order."

**Cyclops** "Leave him, Gary," Scott deadpanned, nodding to Bobby, and marching up the grated walkway of the Blackbird. Scary sense of humor this one. Then again, he's Cyclops. He's supposed to instill fear and hatred into other men. That said, Fearless strutted into the cockpit and sat down upon his throne, complete with a hot cup of steaming coffee. He immediately set to reporting to the Professor via satellite comm-link.

**Phoenix** trounces onboard shortly after, taking her seat in what's commonly known as the co-pilot's chair. But then, that sounds rather drab beside "The Throne," doesn't it. So we'll call it a pedestal and be done with it. She takes her sweet time buckling in and entering a few coordinates. Leaning around the seat, she adds, "Good work, everyone."

**Iceman **"Leave me, sure. Be wary of you're slippers…" Nothing like cold footsies to ruin your morning. Hank knew first hand. Bobby trudges on after the others, finding his chair right behind Jean's. He reclines, tucking his hands neatly behind his head, damned smile never fading. Only thing the Blackbird was missing was a stewardess. Hopefully, Jean wasn't being a –Peeping Tina- with his thoughts.

**Cyclops**, though serious about leadership, is no tyrant, and therefore glanced over his shoulder at Iceman and rose from his seat. "Bobby, you're flying." Cyclops' voice was gruff and commanding, but it was laced with love, baby. Morning kiss atop Jean's head on the way over to the back. Towering over the seated teammate, he motioned for them to trade seats. "Try not to lose our breakfast," he humored soon thereafter.

**Phoenix**'s green eyes widen just a little, certainly surprised. Alright then. Peering around her chair, she stands, giving both Gary and Bobby a stern expression. "He meant that. I don't want to have to assign you two to mopping vomit off the floor." Sauntering past, her adds over her shoulder, "And let's try to –fly- the plane this time, shall we?" Taking her own coffee, she walks towards the back, joining Scott with a smile. "Morning."

**Iceman** feigns shock, mouth gape wide and hands on his cheeks. "Oh me, oh my! Scott is letting me fly!" Sarcasm. Rhyme, not included. He hops up from his seat—not as reluctant as Scott would've hoped—and plops down in "The Throne", which Cyclops happened to get nice and warm form him. It wasn't like he hadn't flown the 'Bird before, just not in a long while. "This is your pilot speaking, buckle your safety belts. Mr. Summers, you might find yours not working."

**Dark Cloak** never so much as moves or flinches. "Bobby is flying this one. I did my part bringing it here."

**Cyclops** failed to respond in kind as well. The only thing he could manage was a chuckle, as he continued to report to the Professor about the government's custody over Juggernaut and where his new cell will be. Not only that, but he multitasked with his Palm Pilot about the Danger Room schedule for the week. Heh. His brows raise at Jean, his amusement coloring through. _Riiiiight..._

**Phoenix **selects the morning's New York Times off the seat beside her and leans back, inspecting the headlines. She seems to give every indication of being a good little wench, but then… that mouth. _Multitasking is sexy._ A smirk is schooled. She flips the page, sips her coffee, checks her watch…

**Iceman **And they were off…into the wild blue—SHIT! A building! He swerves. Everything was OK, and hopefully Scott had a face-full of coffee. Hopefully. The trip was bumpy, but they made it back in one piece. A waterfall dams itself, exposing their hidden hanger in the cliff side, and he parks it nice. Parallel, even. Up yours, boy scout. Heh. Imagine if he didn't like Scott…

**Dark Cloak** It took about three wild swerves before Gary broke his silence. "Perhaps I should have brought the Blackbird back as well. The FAA would not have had to cancel as many flight plans." He was still seated serenely in place, reclining slightly, but then he could stick himself to the seat whereas others could not.

**Cyclops** In the back seat, Scott was…thinking. And with visored eyes blinking. A slow, patient sniff. Kevlar sleeve mopping up the coffee on his visor. His blue uniform was now stained to the belt with the morning's brew. It's all good… "Not that I'm complaining, Iceman, but perhaps more time in _Flight Sim_?" Chagrined look tossed at his wife, Scott unbuckled and was first to exit the plane, wanting to change immediately.

**Phoenix** does feel like vomiting by the time they arrive back, but thankfully telepathy allows her to dull out the feeling of nausea. But it couldn't quash the migraine forming on her brow. Gulping the rest of the coffee, she leaves off the shameless flirting and refolds the newspaper, standing to exit the plane as quickly as possible. "Ten. Make 'em do ten hours in the DR," Jean comments to her husband as she passes, regarding Bobby.

**Cyclops** all managed a sexy smile over his shoulder at that, but keeps on walking.

**Iceman** "Yeah, I would object, but it's a losing battle with you two." He skips out behind them, ridding his shades of non-existent dust. Time check. 8:45. Damn. No time to get any kind of meaningful rest, because Scott would be there to wake him up 15 minutes later. Breakfast sounded good. He slipped off his coat, tossing it into a nearby trash bin-the beams of ice he'd formed made the sleeves brittle, and a long sleeve turned into a no sleeve.

**Iceman **says, "If I object to you cooking, Summers, will I get to cook, too?"

**Phoenix** growls. "Watch out, Bobby. If he doesn't smack you, I will."

**Cyclops** heads out of the hangar before his poor lonely boy heart is shattered.

**Phoenix** stares after Scott and in fact does exactly that, landing a telepathic thwap to the back of Bobby's head as she strides off beside her husband.

**Dark Cloak** glides along behind the rest of the team as a shadow, keeping to himself, having missed the goings-on of the morning, it seems.

**Cyclops **had, at this point, traded in The Visor for The Red Shades and was looking like The Man. And what a man… Upstairs, the battled-pooped team leader was raging another war of his own, namely with his pantaloons. Boom, boom, boom. Jeans, tee shirt, rolled up blue dress shirt over it. And then… The Comb. Fearless paid a visit to the mirror and started fixing The 'Do.

**Phoenix** had indeed taken advantage of the time to grab a shower, her migraine passing slowly but surely. Her butt-length hair miraculously dries within minutes, and she too is dressed in blue jeans (and they _do_ look good) and a black V-neck, Old Navy sweater. Stepping out of the bathroom, she regards Scott in the mirror. "That went well." Of course, she refers to the mission.

**Dark Cloak **has taken advantage of the respite as well, and is now hovering gracefully in a downstairs parlor atop a magnetic field. He seems restless in his sedate state, perhaps wondering at himself, and his abnormal display of power this morning.

**Cyclops **was of course feeling better now that Jean's headache was gone. Their marriage bond notwithstanding, Scott shared Jean's telepathy on several levels, headaches including. "We did good," her husband conceded. What's this? Cyclops agreeing? "I just hope the man knows he'll be paying my cleaning bill. Hungry?"

**Phoenix **claps her silver watch around her wrist, nodding in response. Somehow, she felt as if she was on auto-pilot, her mind elsewhere. But a psionic migraine could put the most cheerful person's day off track. "We ought to keep a closer track on the facility they're holding Marko at. He shouldn't be able to get out again." Jean comments, clasping an elastic around her ponytail.

**Cyclops **walked over and placed a kiss on Jean's forehead. "Thanks for taking care of that," he pointed out. She knew full well about their shared migraines. "The Professor has already set up an appointment with the cryogenics plant, and he'll brief us about his findings on the MacGregor firm this afternoon." Then, as he escorted her downstairs: "Not hurt, are you?"

**Phoenix** smiles, answering the question she was accustomed to after battles. "Not hurt. You?" The trip downstairs was relatively short, and she resigned herself to an afternoon in the War Room, but for now, she wanted to relax and have the quiet morning she'd been denied when Mr. Marko had decided to play bulldozer in Central Park.

**Cyclops **"Cramp neck," he deadpanned, eyes straight ahead. They entered the lobby, and immediately Scott was pleased to find that Dark Cloak was the only one there. Aside from the Professor, Hank, and Forge, Gary Davis remained one of the most respectable men in the mansion. And that was always appreciated… Not that the man had a different side to him.

**Phoenix** "Better put some heat on that." Phoenix replies, as deadpanned as her husband. Masters of solemn flirting, these two. Like she was into any other type.

  
  
  
  
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Insert gratuitous flirting and tasty, black curtain here.

Enjoyed yourself? Craving more, MORE, damn you, MORE?

Then give us your plot suggestions. We'll be sure to consider them. ^^;; 

Also: Read up on more hilarious Cyclops/Phoenix stories

By kabanas and her partner-in-crime, FataMorgana.

You know you want to… Go search! :)


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